Great Minds Think Alike, and Fools Seldom Differ
by CrazyCousinEiko
Summary: Snapshots of the adventures of our favourite detective and his unlikely assistant. A prequel and sequel to "Letting Go" -doesn't matter which you read first . Rated T to be safe. Not slash.
1. Meeting

You can read "Letting Go" (my companion fic to this) before or after... or not at all! Doesn't matter. Just know that Kameko's in both. ;D

Note- Pretty much all of these stories are pre-John and are written out of order. :P If the date is essential, I'll let you know. For now, just keep in mind that this first chapter takes place about three years before "Study in Pink."

You know the drill- Kameko's the only one that belongs to me. ;)

Enjoy!

)oOo(

"Is there _anyone_ here who has a scrap of reason?"

No one heard this question except for the questioner herself, who walked onto the crime scene unnoticed. She, being of diminutive stature, easily crossed the safeguards and made her way to a point at which she could more easily observe the goings on of police.

"The playground?" the girl mused in irritation. "_Really_? Couldn't they have picked someplace more convenient to murder someone? Not that I especially like the playground, but at least the swings are a suitable place to think... and a great excuse to kick the passers by."

She snickered for a moment, remembering all the good times (mainly bruising kicks to the shins of passers-by) that were centered around those swings. And the time that she knocked out that prat Martha Richards. Priceless. The girl shook herself out of her reverie. She had to focus on the facts:

_Four child murders all in the vicinity. All of them attended this school or have relatives who attend this school. And every single last one of them were extraordinarily infantile brats who believed that the entire world belonged to them because their mummies and daddies were a little better off than the rest of us. Imbeciles, every one of them. The papers didn't mention the last bit. They also didn't mention the tidbit of information that is vitally important to this case. Now to find someone at least somewhat competent to explain everything to. What a chore _that_ will be..._

She wandered over to where the forensics team was examining the body. The girl glanced over the corpse, observing with distaste that it seemed exactly the same as the others.

_Stupid serial murderers. Why can't you be more creative? It'd be so much more of a challenge... or at least, as much more of a challenge as you simpletons are cable of presenting. When I, the great Kameko, am a detective inspector, I'll clear you all out so quickly that you won't know what hit you. You, sir, are so pathetic that studying the man on forensics is more interesting than the corpse you left behind. Bloody idiot._

The man in front of her was tall and had a pale, pinched, sniveling face that was rather displeasing to look at. He had light brown hair that was parted in the middle and fell roughly straight on either side, framing a face that -in her opinion- should not have been framed. After studying him for a minute, she couldn't hold it in anymore. Mustering as much strength as she could, Kameko kicked him in the shin. Whirling around, he shouted furiously,

"What the hell was that for!"

"Cheating on your wife," she replied calmly as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which irritated the man even more.

"What- I am not! You don't even know what that is!"

"Having sex with a women who isn't your wife even though you're married." Smirking smugly she walked away from the flabbergasted man before he could react. Passing a woman with dark brown skin and curly hair and looked as if she could have been Kameko's aunt, the child commented,

"I don't know what you see in him."

The lady spun around, trying to find the speaker. However, the girl had already disappeared from view. Dismissing it as the result of sleep deprivation, and perhaps slight paranoia, she went back to work. Kameko wandered around the crime scene, taking mental notes of the Yard's poor habits and inwardly criticizing each of the members. She despaired of finding anyone with a grain of sense when her eyes lit upon a man with greying hair and a kind, worn face. Strolling calmly up to him, she commented wryly,

"What a lovely collection of imbeciles there. Are they yours?"

"How did you get in here?" He looked down at her with a mixture of worry and slight disapproval. Grinning deviously, she replied,

"Magicians never tell their tricks. Their audiences of ignoramuses wouldn't understand anyway. Now if you'll excuse me..."

Before he could reply, she walked quickly away from him and disappeared from view. Kameko understood his wariness, of course- she wouldn't want some idiot child walking onto her investigation, either. Of course, she wasn't an idiot by any means, but he couldn't know that. He wasn't quite bright enough, but there was hope for him, unlike the rest of these imbeciles. Her eyes lit upon a man with dark, curly hair and wore a long coat. _Now _here_ is a proper thinker._ Kameko wandered over to him and stood a few yards away. She observed his methods with a curious frown and waited until he acknowledged her. At first he didn't notice her, so absorbed in his task was he. After a few minutes, however, he realized she was hovering his shoulder and began to get irritated. After several more minutes, he said gruffly,

"Go away."

Kameko ignored his order. "You aren't with the Yard."

"No."

"If you were, you would have killed the guy on forensics ages ago."

"Yes, now go away."

"But the police still let you come in, so you aren't an amateur." She paused and frowned in thought. She murmured, "Detective Inspector? No, that's the grey-haired one in charge of the monkeys. Private detective? No, the police don't go to private detectives. Hmm... You aren't paid, but you help anyway. You don't care about the victims, either, so this isn't charity. It's fun. And you are actually intelligent enough to solve crimes, as is evidenced by your looking over here when no one else has had the sense to. You must be something entirely different."

Minutely impressed with the child's deduction skills, he said, "Consulting Detective."

"Ah! That explains things." Kameko smiled impishly. "You help the police when they're in a fix, then. Which they're always in a fix, it seems, but since you only help with the fun cases (I would, too, if I were you), they're left to fend for themselves when it comes to the simple things that even their tiny little brains should be able to wrap themselves around."

"Leave me alone. I'm working."

She rolled her eyes. "I can _see_ that. You're on the right trail, but you aren't going to get anywhere if you don't have all the evidence that links the kids together."

"You think you have something important to tell me." It was a statement, not a question. He stared impatiently at Kameko, who smirked at the attention he finally gave her.

"I _know_ I have something important to tell you. You are the only one with enough brains to actually understand this."

"Spit it out."

"Someone is impatient." She leaned forward and whispered into Sherlock's ear. A hint of a smirk played the right corner of the detective's lip.

"Clever."

"Yes, I know." Her tone was condescending, but somehow it fit her.

"There you are, you little brat!" The man from forensics came rushing toward them, red-faced and looking ready to paddle Kameko's hide.

"Uh-oh, that's my cue. Good luck with the case. You're going to need it." She saluted and dashed off before anyone could catch her. Alone, the consulting detective scoffed quietly,

"Luck, if only such a thing existed, then life might be a bit more interesting, a bit less... predictable, and so, dull. There is only preparation, planning and the occasional opportunity, though even those are the result of timing, work and previous actions made to line up nicely."

Still, there was something about the girl was mildly interested him. Perhaps it was the fact she wasn't a dullard like most people he met. Perhaps it was the fact she actually observed her surroundings. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was able to irk Anderson and the others the same way he did. No matter what, though, it didn't really matter. Now that she gave her information, she had nothing more to do with the case. She was no longer an active factor, in both the case and his life. Now to get those samples to the lab...

)oOo(

And so it begins...

Please review, especially if you have any ideas for what mischief Sherlock and Kameko can get into! Also, don't be limited by what's in "Letting Go." I mostly plan on pre-John stuffs, but if you want an older Kameko, ask, and you might just receive. ;)

However, I don't want to seem like a copycat of "Just for Fun," which if you haven't read, you really ought to because it's wonderfulness! :D


	2. You Again!

This takes place less than a month after the first chapter.

DI Lestrade and Sherlock are not mine. Kameko, however, is all my own.

)oOo(

'_There is no reasoning with him.'_

That thought was currently running through the minds of both Sherlock and Anderson as they stared each other down. Looking on, Lestrade was sure that the two would start a catfight any moment now. Sherlock would win, of course, if it came to blows. Actually, Sherlock inherently had every advantage except that of official authorization. Unfortunately for Anderson, Sherlock was about to gain that edge as well.

"Anderson, just let him look at it."

"But-"

Lestrade gave him the infamous "look," and Anderson, even with his puny brain, understood that the DI was not to be brooked with and quickly left but not without grumbling under his breath. Sherlock smirked then began his work. However, less than a minute later a scowl returned to his face.

"Go away."

Lestrade frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

"Not you. _Her_."

"Really, Sherlock, you're going to throw me out so soon?" a small voice asked condescendingly. Lestrade looked up to see a girl sitting on the banister of the second story. She waved down at him -barely more than a ripple of small, dark fingers- and smirked. The DI's eyes widened in recognition.

"You're the little girl from the other day!"

"Glad to see you've got a better memory span than a goldfish, Detective Inspector."

"You shouldn't be here."

"Oh, do stop being obvious. It makes you more dull than usual."

"How'd you get in? There are guards all over the place!"

"I've already told you that I refuse to disclose my secrets."

"She climbed in through the second story window," Sherlock supplied. She glared at the consulting detective.

"Is that any way to treat the one who gave you vital evidence in solving the Viewpoint Elementary Murder case?"

"I could've gotten the information on my own," he retorted with a hint of a pout. Lestrade stared up at the girl, flabbergasted.

"_You_? But you're a _kid_!"

"_I _am a young lady, thank you very much."

"Well, young lady or not, I cannot allow you to stay here," Lestrade said sternly, heading for the stairs. He chided himself for not removing her earlier. Something about the girl disturbed- no, _disoriented_ him. He had thought that he could handle anything after being on the force and working with Sherlock, but this girl was something else.

"Why ever not, Mr. Lestrade?" Kameko playfully pouted. "I'm very useful, you know."

"It's Detective Inspector," Sherlock corrected.

"That's bothersome to say all the time. Let's just settle with plain Lestrade, shall we? I hate titles anyhow."

By now, Lestrade had reached the top of the stairs and faced Kameko, waiting for the stubborn girl to budge. When she refused, he scooped her up under his arm in one swift motion and carried her down to the first level and out the door. Once on the ground, Kameko put her hands on her hips and sighed,

"We were getting along so well, too. Where did we go wrong?"

Lestrade frowned at her. It wasn't that he was offended with her informality- God knows Sherlock had done so many worse things- but the DI just couldn't understand what would possess an elementary-schooler to willingly linger around a murder.

"A crime scene is no place for you. Shouldn't you be in school?"

"School is ever so _dull_. They either teach things I already know or things I don't _need_ to know. This, however," she said, motioning toward the building with a wide sweep of her arm, "is interesting. I can actually use my brain to more of its potential here rather than have it languish miserably in a classroom."

_Languish?_ Lestrade thought. _What kind of child uses the word _languish_, anyway?_

His phone beeped, and the DI picked it up with a sigh.

"Hello, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade speaking."

DI Dimmock's voice emerged from the other end.

"_Hullo, Lestrade, sir. It's me, Dimmock. I just wanted to let you know we're on the lookout for a little girl who ran away from school. She's about a 200 cm tall, has brown skin and black, curly hair. She goes by the name of Kameko._"

"Kameko, eh?" Lestrade replied, glancing down at the girl next to him. Her eyes narrowed angrily as she gave him a '_you wouldn't dare_' look. Lestrade smirked and asked,

"What school does she go to?"

"_Viewpoint Elementary, where all those poor kids who were murdered attended. 'D hate to see another one not return home to her parents_."

"As would I. Thanks for information, Dimmock."

"_You're welcome, sir. Good day_."

"Good bye."

Lestrade hung up and drilled Kameko with an expectant stare. When she was not forthcoming, he looked at his watch, sighed, and asked wearily,

"Viewpoint gets out at half past one, yes?"

"Unfortunately. Wish their torture was shorter, though."

"It's 1:15 now, and Sherlock's probably nearly done. You can stay here until we're finished. After that, I'll take you back to school. Deal?"

Kameko smirked and nodded. Before Lestrade could stop her, she strolled back into the house as if she owned the place and began examining everything in sight with that same keen eye as Sherlock. When she reached the consulting detective, the little girl hovered over him until he noticed her, then bombarded him with questions, suggestions, and comments. Sherlock didn't take that to well, to Lestrade's amusement. Finally unable to take it, the young man walked out of the house without a word. Kameko trotted after him, a smug expression on her face. Looking up a Lestrade, she proudly announced,

"My work here is done."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Lestrade took her hand, much to her chagrin. Hell if he was going to let her get out of his sight. The DI led her away from the crime scene after a quick word to Donovan about his errand. She had looked at the little girl as if trying to figure out where they had seen each other before, but Kameko acted as if the woman didn't exist.

The school was only a few blocks away and did not take long to traverse. When the pair arrived at the elementary school, a short Japanese woman who looked to be in her early thirties ran toward them. Kameko's smirk vanished, replaced by an expression of suppressed horror. The woman stopped in front of them and shook her finger at the girl.

"Nadia Edwards! How _dare_ you cut class after I expressly forbade you to! Do you know how worried your father and I were when we heard about this? _Think_ for once, Nadia! You're a seven-year-old girl wandering around not even a month after a string of child murders! You are in _big trouble_!"

Lestrade, who had let go of Kameko's hand by now, expected the little girl to retaliate, but she remained silent. Her face, however, had drained of colour somewhat. Finally, she said,

"Hai, Okaasan."

After shooing Kameko into the car, the lady looked gratefully at Lestrade and extended her hand.

"Thank you so much for taking care of my daughter, sir. My name is Michiko Edwards. I hope Nadia was not too much trouble for you."

Lestrade kept any tell-tale expression Kameko's true behaviour at bay and replied, "You're welcome, Mrs. Edwards. Your daughter... is a very _inquisitive_ child."

"She is indeed. My husband and I can hardly keep up with her. She's already at a fifteen-year-old's reading level and a twelve year-old's math level, with both rising rapidly. What's more, she's incredibly clever and headstrong, and she isn't afraid to use her wits or confidence to her advantage. Nadia's too intelligent for this school, but we can't afford to get her a tutor or teach her ourselves. She gets bored so easily, and she will go to any length to find something entertaining if she has the desire to."

She sighed tiredly, and Lestrade saw worry lines already forming on the woman's face. Snapping back into reality, she apologized,

"Forgive me, sir. I don't mean to lay my troubles upon you."

"You're fine. I know a man like her. Sometimes he's incredibly difficult to deal with." Softening, he laid a comforting hand on her arm and said, "She's a very special girl, Mrs. Edwards. If she decides to use her abilities for good, she could do wonders."

"Thank you. It does my heart well to hear that." Michiko bowed her head. Knitting his brows together, he asked one final question.

"If you don't mind me inquiring, but... if her name is Nadia, why does she answer to Kameko?"

"Oh, that. She insists on being called 'Kameko' even though she knows no one by that name. It means 'Superior Child.' For a while I told her to be more humble and choose a nickname like 'Toshiko' (clever child) if she really had to go by her abilities. But she won't answer to anything other than Kameko unless she's really in trouble."

The answer did not surprise Lestrade in the least. He bade Kameko's mother good day and made his way back to the crime scene. As Donovan filled him in on the details he missed while escorting Miss Edwards to school, he couldn't help thinking about the little girl. He somehow had the nagging feeling that whatever he and her parents did, she would show up to more crime scenes- or at least the ones Sherlock visited. He didn't know if he could handle two of them, especially when one posed such a legal challenge. He sighed.

_Whatever comes, comes, I suppose. I need to get through today- it has enough troubles of its own._

)oOo(

Another chapter done! Hooray! ^-^ Kameko wasn't as funny as I wanted her to be, but now that intros are done, she can really start to shine! (Which means more trouble for Lestrade and more irritation and entertainment for Sherlock). XD

Oh, and if you're thinking, "That girl is way too smart to be true!" I know a girl who's like this. It's kind of insane. Except she's a really sweet, nice girl, not a sarcastic, back talking brat (who is pretty hilarious all the same).

I hope you enjoyed this! Please give me any questions, suggestions, and comments in reviews. I'd especially love any scene ideas. ;D

Thanks for reading!


	3. Babyminding

Hello, everyone! I'm back again with more Kameko! :D I probably SHOULD be working on Valiant, _buuuuut_... that requires a lot more emotional input, which is difficult because I'm really not an emotional person. T.T It takes heart-wrenchingly beautiful music and usually a gorgeously written story (usually by Morgan Stuart or Sidney Sussex) to get me into the right mood, _sooo_... I'm giving you this. Because I'm more in the mood for something funny. Plus Kameko's my favourite. (I'm so biased). XD

Feel free to ignore all that and just keep reading... .'

)oOo(

_About a month after the last chapter_

Lestrade rolled his eyes as he heard Sherlock picking the lock. _Again_. As long as he wasn't drugged up, the DI supposed he'd be able to tolerate his presence, though for how long he wasn't sure. He sighed as he heard the consulting detective's footsteps softly padding through the corridor. Not bothering to look toward the dark-haired man, Lestrade chided,

"Sherlock, I should arrest you for breaking and entering."

"You don't normally."

"That's because you normally break into _my_ apartment, not the place I'm house-sitting."

"So?"

Lestrade suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the man. He turned around to change the subject when his eyes fell on a familiar little girl with piercing brown eyes and a smug smirk. The DI blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He should have expected this. He had seen the glimpses of the girl at the last three crimes he and Sherlock had visited together. She hadn't bothered being discreet, but neither had she walked onto the scene like the first two times. He supposed Donovan had been keeping a better lookout for the little girl.

"She followed me here," Sherlock grumbled, obviously displeased that he couldn't escape a seven-year-old in crowded London. Lestrade couldn't help but crack a small smile. At least Kameko hadn't gone to some God-forsaken place in search of crime. Lord knows the last thing he needed -or wanted- was another child murder. At the same time, he worried about what the pair's presence boded for him. Surely nothing good.

"Kameko, does your mother know where you are?"

"No." Kameko glared at him as if to say, '_It's really none of your business whether she knows or not_.'

"Do you have her number?" Lestrade's eyes told her, _'It _is_ my business and there's no changing it.'_

Kameko rolled her eyes. "Yes. I suppose you expect me to call her and let her know where I am."

"Yes, I do," Lestrade responded calmly, folding his arms over his chest. He was not about to let her cause her poor mother any more worry. He suspected that Mrs. Edwards knew that her child wasn't where she was supposed to be but had no way of making sure Kameko would stay where she was told. Kameko recited her mother's mobile number, and Lestrade dialed it. Mrs. Edwards picked up on the first ring.

"_Hello, Michiko Edwards speaking. How may I help you?_"

"Yes, Mrs. Edwards. This is Detective Inspector Lestrade. We met last month after your daughter skipped school."

A sharp intake of breath. "_Is Nadia alright?_"

"Yes, Mrs. Edwards, she's fine. She's followed one of my colleagues to my house. Is there anything you'd like to tell her?"

"_Yes, please._"

Lestrade handed the phone to Kameko, who hesitantly raised the device to mouth, making sure to keep it well away from her ear.

"Hai, Okaasan?"

Even a few feet away, the two men had no trouble hearing the torrent of Japanese spouting out of the speaker. Kameko grimaced and didn't bother to answer anything her mother said. Lestrade wondered if her mother even gave her the chance. After five minutes, the girl mumbled something and passed the mobile back to Lestrade. He, too, kept the device well away from his ear.

"Mrs. Edwards?"

"_I apologize for my daughter's behaviour. It seems she had cancelled our baby-minder in favour of wandering around town in search of something 'entertaining.' _"

Lestrade shot a glare at Sherlock. No doubt she had picked up the phrase from him. The DI heard the woman heave an exhausted sigh on the other end.

"_Detective Inspector... could I ask you an enormous favour?_"

He blanched at the prospect of what she might ask. Still, he felt for the woman and couldn't bear to refuse her.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"_Could you look after her for the next hour and a half? I know you're probably a very busy man, and I understand if you cannot, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would_."

"I... It's fine, ma'am. You sure you trust me with your daughter?"

Michiko laughed. "_I'm afraid I have no choice, but yes, I trust you. Now, what's the address?_"

Lestrade gave it to her before bidding her good day. He still couldn't believe how trusting Mrs. Edwards was. He recallaed that she had met him and had run into him several times at the market, so he wasn't a _complete_ stranger, but still... He sighed and ran a calloused hand through his silvering hair. Deciding that he was _not_ going to let these two destroy the house, Lestrade stood up and said,

"Alright, well, you two are welcome to stay here, but I've got to lay some ground rules:

"First- No experiments in this house of any kind. _Period_.

"Second- There is no use of weapons in this house unless I give the order to or you are in a life-threatening situation.

"Three- Neither of you are to touch the food or go near the kitchen.

"Four- you are to confine yourselves to this room and first loo only. No exploring the house.

"Five- I have absolute authority. As the owner is not here, I have full right to speak for her. Any questions?"

"Bored!" Sherlock complained. Kameko nodded in agreement. It had only taken two minutes for surprising Lestrade to lose its charm. Another three to deduce the living daylights out of the house and its absent occupants. The little girl lazily padded about the room in rainbow-striped socks (courtesy of her well-meaning mother) and looked about for some source of entertainment. She spied something in the other room and, making sure Lestrade wasn't looking, raced over. After making sure the door was almost -but not quite- shut, she turned to the object of her curiosity and gracefully removed the sheet covering it with a flourish. To her delight stood a grand piano, polished and waiting for someone to sit down and play. It dominated the room like a monarch over its domain.

Looking around the space, she realized that there were several different instruments, all of which were carefully stored and beautifully gleaming. In the corner, however, sat a well-worn guitar that looked to be several years old. It was faded and a tad grey from age, but it still retained its handsomeness. Momentarily distracted from the piano, Kameko wandered over to the guitar that waited patiently in shadows, content to watch the rest of the instruments shine. Her fingertips carefully caressed the light wood, feeling every scratch and seam. Hundreds of images of its past raced through her mind like a film on fast forward. She drew her hand away and swallowed, strangely touched.

_So this is what helps you cope..._

The door opened, and Kameko quickly crouched behind the curtains beside the cello. A few moments later, Lestrade parted the fabric with a small smile on his face.

"I'm not that stupid, you know."

Embarrassed at her stupidity, Kameko did as she was told. Lestrade followed her eyes to the corner, and sadness crept into his eyes. His smile, however, did not waver. He strolled over and picked the battered instrument up. He slowly sat down in the middle of the floor and tenderly laid the guitar across his knee. Kameko hesitantly joined him. The silver-haired man strummed the strings in greeting. They hadn't been with each other in quite a while, it seemed. With a smile, he began playing a soft, sweet tune. His eyes stared far, far away at a place only he could see. He softly sang, his voice unexpectedly rich and tender.

"_Sometimes we'll sigh - sometimes we'll cry _

_and we'll know why just you and I know true love ways." _

He sighed and put down the guitar, tears welling in his eyes. Of all songs to play, why did he have to play _that_ one? With all of the emotions he was trying to fight off, it took Lestrade a few moments to realize that Kameko had disappeared. He panicked for a second, but thankfully she returned with Sherlock in tow. The girl picked up a violin case and shoved it into Sherlock's arms before he could pull away. She then brushed the stray hair from her face and sat at the grand piano. After cracking her fingers, she experimentally played a few chords, adjusting things as she saw fit. Not one to be outdone, Sherlock removed the violin from its case and plucked its strings indifferently. Deciding that it was passable, the consulting detective tuned the instrument.

When she saw that Sherlock was just about ready, Kameko began to play.

Lestrade's jaw dropped at the sound. His lonely renditions of Buddy Holly were nothing like this... _this_... he couldn't even come up with a word for it. The tune was familiar and foreign, gentle and cutting, soft and strong all at once. Sherlock seemed to know it, too, for he soon joined in. The duet swept Lestrade a current of emotion that he had no way of fighting against. Each note caressed his torn and badly mended heart, but only after slicing deep, deep into its utterly broken center. Decades of pain and sorrow and bitterness bled, bled, _bled_ until there was nothing left to bleed. The notes fell like rain, gentle and cool, cleansing his now gaping wounds. And then- he felt refreshed, content...

_Alive._

Lestrade drifted back to reality long after the music stopped. The other two had gone back into the living room. He could tell because they were both yelling at the telly- something about eyelashes and fingernail clippings and "_Wrong!_" He sighed amusedly and walked out. He watched the two standing side by side, shaking their fists and then pacing all over the room in order to rid themselves of their vexation. He shook his head at their antics and chuckled.

_What a pair._

Wordlessly he snatched the remote and changed the channel to their protest. Despite Kameko's supposed desensitization regarding blood, he felt that the program was too violent for the child to watch. He told her this -and a great deal of other things- when she tried to grab the controls from him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and slumped listlessly onto the couch, tuning out whatever rubbish Lestrade was saying now. Annoyed, Kameko ignored the DI as well and turned her glare onto the consulting detective- she had wanted to sit on the couch, too. Now there was no room. There was only one solution to a problem like this.

She hopped backward and landed squarely on Sherlock's stomach. The man grunted loudly and scowled at Kameko, who lifted her chin defiantly and sniffed,

"Next time, don't hog the couch."

Half and hour later, Kameko lay on Sherlock's stomach, boredly flipping through channels on the telly in an attempt to find something interesting to watch. Currently the consulting detective dozed off on the couch, exhaustion from his last case finally catching up to him. The little girl slowly drifted off to sleep until the remote fell out of her hand and clattered onto the wooden floor. Smiling, Lestrade picked it up and switched to the classical music channel. He had a sneaking suspicion that Kameko enjoyed it as much as Sherlock did.

Lestrade gazed fondly at Kameko. As she slept, she looked... _vulnerable_.

_I swear, Kameko,_ he vowed solemnly, _that I shall do everything in my power to protect you even when you don't want my protection, and to help you achieve your goals even when you don't want my help. You are so incredibly talented. The world is yours for the taking. Just one thing, please- don't hurt your poor parents like this. They really do love you and would be devastated if anything happened to you... and so would I._

)oOo(

Finally done! :D Took me a while, as I've been struggling with writer's block and whatnot, but hopefully the wait was worth it! (If anyone's even watching this! XD)

If anyone's curious, I mostly was picturing Sherlock and Kameko playing a Yiruma piece- "Maybe," "Kiss the Rain," or "River Flows in You." Those are my favourites of his, anyway. ^-^ Lestrade was playing/singing "True Love Ways" by the great Buddy Holly.

Sherlock picking the lock to "Lestrade's" place, Lestrade playing the guitar, and Lestrade's love of Buddy Holly were all inspired by Morgan Stuart. To see the amazinginess of Lestrade and a guitar, read: .net/s/7207073/1/The_Day_the_Music_Lived -Actually, you should read every Sherlock story in that gallery because they're awesome. And her stories are my muse. SO much. Plus I love her to death because she's sweet and kind and overall awesome so you should all go to her gallery, read everything, and storm her with more comments than she knows what to do with. XD

But I digress. From now on, the chapters will probably be out of order as far as timeline goes. It'll just be whatever's on my mind, I suppose. Next chapter she'll be meeting Mycroft! *gasp!* If you have any other scene ideas, I'd love to hear them! :D

Have a wonderful day, everyone, and please review! Arigato gozaimasu!


	4. Mycroft vs Kameko

Hello, everyone! I'm very excited for this chapter- I've come to love Mycroft, and I've been itching to write what a meeting between him and Kameko would be like. XD Please enjoy! :D

)oOo(

Kameko sat on the swings at the school playground when a black, nondescript car pulled up. A man with short, brown hair and sharp eyes walked toward her. He twirled an umbrella and leaned slightly on the swing set. In a affectedly friendly but condescending tone, he asked,

"Hello, Miss. Might I have a word with you?"

"You've already had nine. The only useful word at this point, and which would coincidentally round it to an even ten, would be 'goodbye.'"

The man sniffed in distaste at her cheeky remark. He so despised children. "Yes, I suppose you are correct."

"Just get to the point, my good man," she remarked flippantly. "I tire of useless chitchat. It's so... _wearisome_."

"Yes, yes, I understand. Children have such short attention spans." Kameko glared at him, then chided herself for being so open. The stranger smirked.

"As I was saying, what is your affiliation with a certain 'Sherlock Holmes'?"

"He is my rival. One might even go so far as to say he is my _arch nemesis_."

"I'm afraid he does not consider you so. In fact, he would probably say that _I_ am his arch nemesis. You ought to leave him alone, if for nothing else your own safety."

He looked down haughtily at the child, who kept her gaze as level and unblinking as his. She would not lose to a petty politician like him. He was just as keen not to lose to an insignificant child like her. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she answered,

"Mr. Holmes, I have no intention of leaving your younger brother alone. I cannot excel him if I do not learn his strategy."

"I never mentioned anything about being his brother." He gave her such an icy stare that she shivered involuntarily and fought the urge to scrape nonexistent ice off her arms.

"_No_, but the fact is easily deduced. You share that haughty air, condescending smirk, piercing glare..."

She again scolded herself for losing her nerve, but there was something about this man that didn't sit quite right with her. Perhaps it was because he emanated a steady aura of cool confidence and unwavering composure, unlike his brother who ranged from fiery and unpredictable to lethargic and uncaring. This man seemed to be in utter control of himself and the environment around him... if that were possible. Gathering herself, she faced him and gave a sickeningly sweet smile that made Mr. Holmes's stomach lurch. In a voice that matched her expression, she said,

"But listing the similarities is tedious, and as you so kindly mentioned, children have short attention spans. Is there anything else you would like to inquire of me?"

The man exhaled slowly. This game grated on his nerves, especially with her new tone of voice. She was every bit as cunning and vexing as Sherlock had been when he was a child. No- she was _worse_. Mr. Holmes wished this to be over with as soon as possible and rid himself of the pest. Straightening, he replied,

"Yes. I have a proposition to make- how would you like to act for me as a spy on Sherlock Holmes?"

"I assume there's something in it for me."

Her readiness to accept the challenge didn't surprise him. Neither did her request for payment.

"Yes... there would be a substantial amount of money involved."

Kameko coolly raised an eyebrow but otherwise showed no sign of emotion.

"How much?"

"Enough to compensate for your troubles."

"We'll see." She inspected her fingernails. Kameko normally didn't copy the idiotic females in the movies, but she found this gesture to be very useful when playing mind games with others. "I need some money upfront, though, and I don't come cheap."

"How much?"

"To start with?" She cocked her head as if considering. "Two hundred quid."

"Two... hundred..." He paused, sighed inaudibly, and signed a cheque. He tore the paper from his chequebook with a flourish and handed it to her. "Very well then. Here's your money. Shall I deposit it myself? Or would you like your dear _Mummy_ to help you?"

She shot him a glare and snatched it from his delicate white hand. She was very much tempted to scratch that pale skin and see the red streaks across it.

"I'll take that myself, thank you very much. I am perfectly capable of depositing this into the right place."

He began to walk away, but turned around and said, "A word before we part- Sherlock Holmes is not your friend. He does not have friends- only enemies and rivals. He does not care about you, nor will he ever."

Kameko narrowed her eyes at him and replied coldly,

"Duly noted. Good day."

He gave her a polite nod before turning away again. She watched him climb into the plain but undoubtedly luxurious black car and disappear. The man's words rang in her head. "_Sherlock Holmes is not your friend. He does not have friends, only enemies and rivals. He does not care about you, nor will he ever._" Kameko scowled and pumped her legs harder.

_Stupid, stupid man. I won't listen to a single word you say. Never. _

Deep down, she knew he was right, and she hated him for it.

)oOo(

_The next day_

Kameko and Sherlock sat on the curb, waiting for Lestrade to meet them. Suddenly, the little girl broke the silence.

"I can see why you dislike your brother."

Sherlock glared at her in annoyance. "Brother? How do you know about Mycroft?"

_Mycroft. So that's the wretched snake's name._

"Yesterday he drove up in a nondescript black car and approached me saying that I had no business with you since I'm a little girl and probably other nonsense that isn't worth remembering or repeating."

"Did he tell you who he was?"

"Nothing except that you consider him your arch enemy. I deduced the rest." She couldn't keep the grin from her face as she said it. It felt good knowing that she had surprised Mycroft with her observational skills. Sherlock, however, did not comment on that. Instead-

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

The unexpected praise warmed her entire body. Smirking, she glanced over at him and teased,

"You know I'm not splitting the fee."

"Fine," he replied peevishly. "Don't give any profit to the one who earned it for you."

Kameko didn't comment. She didn't need to. What Mycroft had said didn't matter. Sherlock might act like he didn't like her, but she knew that wasn't true. They were comrades as well as rivals. She would prove Mycroft wrong and rub it in his cool, condescending face. The thought made her smile.

_This is going to be good._

)oOo(

I don't know who asked the question about John, but this fic mostly focuses on pre-John, so we may or may not see him. If I get enough feedback asking me to include him, I will. However, I gotta have reviews to know that, so please click the little review button on the bottom! ;D

Thanks, everyone! ^-^


	5. The Play

Hello, all! I'm here for another round of chaos! XD I have to say that this has to be one of my favourite chapters I've written for this thus far. I hope you enjoy it, too.

Again, Sherlock and Lestrade belong to ACD and BBC. Kameko is mine. ;D

Dedicated to all the theatre geeks who make my life interesting. ^-^

)oOo(

"No."

Sherlock hadn't even turned around, but Kameko was aware that Sherlock already knew what her intentions were. She scowled and set her hands on her hips. She didn't care what argument he made- he wouldn't have it his way. Not this time.

"You're going, Sherlock, whether you'd like to or not."

"I said 'no.' "

"And I'm saying 'Sorry, mate. You have no choice.' If I have to suffer, so do you!" She walked up to his table and slipped a small, rectangular piece of paper next to his hand. "It's out of your share of the fuddy-duddy money.

"The _what_?"

Kameko blushed and coughed. "The Mycroft Money."

Sherlock didn't respond except to stubbornly push the ticket back to her, but Kameko refused to take it. The girl sighed. "What if I get you another ticket so you can at least bring someone with you, and we can _all_ drown in misery."

"Who on earth would want to go to such a ridiculous-"

Kameko snorted in disdain. "You'd be surprised. You could bring Mycroft."

It was Sherlock's turn to snort in contempt. Kameko smirked. She loved irking him like this. Pondering over the consulting detective's incredibly short list of associates who did not want to kill, maim, or otherwise avoid Sherlock at all costs, she suggested,

"What about Lestrade? He might enjoy something entirely unrelated to his job and not mentally taxing."

"You ought to have gotten into a more experienced group."

Kameko sighed dramatically. "Mother Dear _insists_ I need to 'interact with my peers' and 'develop socially.' They're all pathetic imbeciles." She paused. Conjuring an air of defeat and annoyance, she groused, "Fine. Have it your way."

She stomped out of the room in a mood, leaving Sherlock alone with his experiments. He frowned. Kameko would never give up so easily. He had a bad feeling about this…

"I already told Kameko no!"

"Come off it, Sherlock. You need to go out," Lestrade insisted. At Sherlock's disbelieving look, he sighed and admitted, "She already weaseled me into buying a ticket, and I'm sure as hell not going alone."

"I'm busy."

"No, Sherlock. _I _am busy. _You_ are just making up excuses. You're coming whether you like it or not."

Sherlock glared at Lestrade for several moments before snatching the ticket.

"Fine. But don't expect me to stay the whole time."

Sherlock and Lestrade awkwardly made their way to their assigned seats. It seemed that Kameko had gone to the trouble of purchasing seats that were smack dab in the centre of the theatre, which wasn't too bad except that everyone else in their row had gotten seated before them. Lestrade tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, but why did he have the nagging feeling that everything was going to blow up in his face? He looked at Sherlock, who was lounging back in his seat with an expression of utter boredom on his features.

Because it was Sherlock and Kameko. That's why.

It was... a _cute_ play. That's all one can really say when the actors are all between the ages of six and eight. For her part, Kameko simply stood around dressed as a tree and glared daggers at her classmates. Lestrade knew that look all too well- she was just about ready to beat the living daylights out of every one of them. Even now he imagined all the abuse she'd give them, at least verbally, if she could. For the first twenty or so minutes of the half-hour play, everything went as smoothly as it could for having an all-child cast. Sherlock looked bored to death, but Lestrade was enjoying himself. The care-free, _living_ children were a much-needed reprieve from all the paperwork and corpses. Lestrade almost made the mistake of believing that his evening would be blissfully uneventful when one of the children suddenly forgot his lines. While this had happened to other actors several times already, it seemed that Kameko's patience had run out. She launched herself onto the hapless boy and began ranting,

"Get a grip, you bloody imbecile! The lines aren't that difficult! A two-year-old could memorize- hell, a two-year-old could _write_ better lines than this piece of crap! Stop whinging, you little twit!"

The teachers hurriedly pried the furious tree off the poor boy, who was sobbing by this point. A shocked hush settled over the theatre, only to be broken by a set of loud, slow claps. With a mischievous grin, Sherlock turned to Lestrade and commented loudly,

"She didn't learn that from me. What about _your_ division, Lestrade?"

Blushing madly, Lestrade sank slowly into his chair, hoping no one could get a good look at him and inwardly cursing Kameko for their prime seating.

_God, why me?_

Out in the lobby, Kameko strolled out of the dressing room wearing her normal clothes. Sherlock gave her a nod of approval, while Lestrade managed a strangled "Good job" and handed her a bouquet of already wilting flowers. _They must have picked up on my mood,_ he thought morosely. Throwing a smirk at the DI, Kameko asked,

"So, will your unit be hearing about this?"

Lestrade blushed and stammered what he hoped was a cohesive reply. Kameko chuckled and shook her head.

"Poor, poor Lestrade. So easy to pick on. Someday you'll learn. _Maybe_."

)oOo(

I know that the whole "school play" thing is a bit overdone, but I just had to try my hand at it, especially when it's something Kameko would loathe entirely. XD And poor Lestrade... it seems Kameko's determined to always have him in a fix. I love the man, though. He takes it so well.

Please review and have a good day/night. ;)


	6. Needles and Patches

Merry Christmas, everyone! :D Here's a little gift for y'all! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: implied drug use, not-so-implied cursing

)oOo(

Kameko knocked on Sherlock's door and waited. When he didn't answer, she decided to get in the old fashioned way: lock picking. Sticking her tongue out in order to better concentrate, the little girl furrowed her brows and began her task. It took less than two minutes to unlock the door and step inside. It was a small space made even smaller by all the clutter. And the _stench!_ Kameko recoiled in disgust. It had to be an experiment. Or perhaps five. Impossible to tell. She walked around the flat in her shoes- she dared not take them off for fear of what she might accidentally step on- and inspected the place. No one seemed to be home, but she decided to go into the other rooms just to make sure.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, what are you-?" she stopped mid sentence. Her eyes alighted on the wan man with a large needle in hand, poised to slip the instrument into the blue veins that stood out against his pale skin. He glared at her venomously, something akin to annoyed surprise in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"Well, yes, _that's_ obvious."

"Well, if you're so smart, then why don't _you_ deduce what I'm doing here?"

"I don't have to. Now go away." He waved his hand to shoo her out, but Kameko stood her ground.

"No, I won't. Not until I have answers. What are you doing?"

"That's none of your business," he replied shortly.

"_Ooooh_ yes it is." Her eyes widened as she took notice of the needle in his hand. "Is that... _cocaine_?"

"How could you possibly-"

"I heard Lestrade telling you that if he catches you doing cocaine again, he'll kick you out of Scotland Yard and never let you back in again... along with several other unsavoury words that I shall not repeat."

Sherlock glared murderously at her. He tried to deduce whether or not she would tell Lestrade about this. She was as loyal as a dog most of the time, but she could be capricious and turn on him when it suited her, especially if the results were entertaining, and he knew that seeing Lestrade blow up at him could be _very_ entertaining.

For her part, Kameko wore a deadpan expression and walked over to the sitting figure. When he didn't do anything, she plopped down on the floor in front of him. The girl stared dubiously at the equipment. Why would anyone poke themselves with needles to alleviate boredom? Surely there were other better, safer, _less painful_ methods. Locking gazes with him, she stated,

"You may be clever, but you sure aren't smart."

"Oh belt it," he retorted, still trying to figure out the chances of her telling on him. Perhaps if he got her to see things his way, she might keep those blasted lips sealed. _Maybe_. It was worth a shot.

"Simply being smart is _much _too dull. Cleverness is much better, but even then it gets boring with no further stimulation of my wit but my own devices..."

" '_Devices_?' " She echoed scornfully. "Using drugs is _cheating_, Sherlock."

The accusation annoyed him. Her cool, even voice made it even worse. But he could see the anger in her eyes. If she wanted to fight about it...

"It is not. Drugs are only used when I don't have cases. When life gets _too _dull to bear. When nothing is happening. For reasons a _child_ wouldn't understand."

Kameko bristled at the comment. She knew he was baiting her, but she couldn't help but be resentful all the same. Yes, he didn't treat her as an equal, but normally he at least regarded her as more of an adult than most people did, but now... And the offhanded manner in which he said it! Drug-induced or not, the comment did not sit well with her. Plus the fact that he, the great Sherlock Holmes, would stoop down to something so base and foolish as drugs and still have the nerve to call _her_ a child? It was too much. After trying to gain control of herself, she finally let go.

"I am _not_ a child! _I_ am a young lady! I'm clever _and_ smart enough to not have to use drugs. I'll outdo you, Sherlock, and I won't even need drugs to do it! You'll see."

Kameko glared at him, challenging him to say otherwise. Sherlock sighed. Out of everyone, he had thought that she would understand his dilemma. He knew that her mind drove her crazy just like his did. It was the curse of genius. Instead she treated him like everyone else did. Disdain, disgust, and... _disappointment_. Well, the last was reserved for Lestrade and -dare he acknowledge it?- Mycroft. In that she was fairly different from most. But she hadn't taken the time to understand him, had she? None of them had. She was a fool just like the rest. He had been wrong to think that she might amount to something. As Kameko walked out of the room, the dreaded black mood descended. While she was still within earshot, he resumed raising the silver instrument to his arm and muttered,

"Say what you will, but when you get old enough, you will do the same. People of our intellect don't belong, and so there is nothing for us. We are fish out of water, and nowhere on land are there depths to be explored, and nowhere is there sanctuary that provides stimulation of the capacity that would keep us occupied... that would keep us... happy..."

The needle dropped to the floor, heeded by no one.

Lestrade was angry. No, he was more than angry. He was irate. Incensed. _Furious_.

"Sherlock, how _dare_ you?"

Sherlock stared back dispassionately. He had heard the lecture so many times before that it had lost its effect. He had no intention of changing his behaviour, even if it did get him off cases for a few months. He knew the D.I. relied too much on his help to get by for long.

Apparently Lestrade did not appreciate his silence, for the silver-haired man began to pace back and forth even faster than before.

"How many times have we gone over this?"

"I wasn't on a case," Sherlock sighed. "And there were no signs of another in sight."

"You know very well that a case could come up at any time." His voice dangerously low, he said, "This isn't about that, though."

Sherlock raised a brow in surprise. If Lestrade wasn't chewing him out about that, then why would he be so angry with him? It wasn't like he had overdosed or anything, nowhere near, in fact. Once was plenty to make him cautious enough so that it wouldn't happen again; actually, the worst part of it had been the lecture Lestrade had given him in the hospital room, as if he were a child Kameko's age who had stuck their hand in the campfire after being politely told not to.

Now Lestrade whirled around, his eyes blazing. "You told Kameko that using drugs was _okay!_ More than that, you told her that she would never belong anywhere!"

Ah, so it was about _that_. Curious. He briefly wondered if Kameko was watching from some corner or camera. Would she enjoy the reaction her childish tattling had caused? And this was exactly his point: if she felt that she had to 'tattle' then her mindset obviously wasn't adult enough to comprehend the life advice she was given.

"What does it matter to you? She isn't your daughter. And besides, I didn't actually _give_ any to her."

"Sherlock! Sherlock _Bloody_ Holmes!" Lestrade pinned the consulting detective to the wall with more force than one might expect from a worn out man. The Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. He had obviously miscalculated the older man's attachment to the child.

"What does it _matter_ that she's not my daughter? For all the time I've spent with her lately, she might as well be. But no matter what, you don't tell a child that she's going to be an outcast for the rest of her life! Sherlock, Kameko _looks up_ to you! She _pays attention_ to what you do. Before it didn't matter what you did because, frankly, no one gave a damn. Now you're a role model for this little girl for whatever unfathomable reason, and there's no _fucking_ way I'm going to let you get away with possibly _ruining_ the rest of her life because of your _goddamn_ addiction!"

For once, Sherlock didn't know what to say. He had no witty retort, no snappy comeback. He still didn't quite understand what made Lestrade so angry, but the consulting detective knew that he had done something very... not good. The D.I. must have seen his confusion, for he backed away and sighed, running his hand though his already tousled hair.

"Sherlock, you've probably deleted this kind of information, but kids, however intelligent and cynical as they may seem, still need to be encouraged and nurtured. Crushing a child's sense of worth this early doesn't just hurt them for a little while- it can affect their entire lives and the lives of the people they come into contact with. Kameko is an unusually strong little girl, at least on the outside. However, just because she looks like she's fine doesn't necessarily mean that it's true. You need to be careful with how you treat her, Sherlock. Choose your words wisely. Please. For _her _sake."

"But isn't it better that I tell her now so that she's not broken by the reality?"

Lestrade shook his head. For how intelligent and emotionless he was, Sherlock could be as naïve as a child sometimes. The D.I. knew that Sherlock's comment was honest and meant to help... which was why the consulting detective needed this lecture. The older man wondered how many times Sherlock's brother and parents had to deal with this kind of situation. He couldn't imagine and was suddenly thankful that he could choose when he wanted to deal with the man... more or less.

"No, Sherlock. These are the kinds of things she needs to learn for herself over time. Now I'm not saying that she necessarily has to do it all on her own, that you can't help her at all, but she needs to do it one step at a time. For her, that was probably like jumping four or five steps on the staircase- it's too much at once, and she'll most likely fall and hurt herself. Better to do it slowly so that there's less heartache."

God, he didn't even know half of what he was saying. He was so utterly exhausted right now that he could only pray he made some sort of sense. Sherlock at least seemed to be stewing it over. Perhaps he was just trying to come up with the most biting comeback. Lestrade remembered one more thing.

"And Sherlock- I'm sure you think Kameko 'tattled' on you, but that wasn't the case. Her mother called me last night trying to find out who had made her daughter so upset. She didn't sell you out, and neither did I because her mother would have never let you back into Kameko's life. I hope that I made the right decision."

With that, Lestrade walked out of the room, leaving Sherlock to his thoughts.

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock," Kameko said as she handed him a box wrapped in plain brown paper. He stared at her dispassionately and replied,

"I don't celebrate Christmas. It is a meaningless holiday. That Jesus fellow wasn't even born in the winter!"

"I _know_, Sherlock," she answered patiently, as if talking to a small child. "Open it anyway."

Slowly, cautiously, he unwrapped the paper. "Nicotine patches..."

"Very good, Sherlock!"

Sherlock huffed at her condescending tone, but he couldn't conceal his confusion. Kameko rolled her eyes and sighed in false exasperation.

"You're trying your best to get clean. I know it's not for me, but I appreciate it anyway. Now I don't have to stoop down to you when the drugs have completely messed you up... _And_ if you decide that you still really need the high, the nicotine patch is a nice cover up."

She gave her signature wave- a ripple of fingers, really- winked, and walked away. Before she disappeared around the corner, she called over her shoulder,

"You and Ojii-san are invited to Christmas dinner! You know where to find me!"

)oOo(

Full title of chapter: Needles and Patches: In Which Sherlock Pisses Lestrade Off. _Majorly_.

In all seriousness, I'd never want to face off with an irate Lestrade. I think I'd rather die. XD I know that this topic has been run to the ground, but I really wanted to have a take of Sherlock and drugs in regards to Kameko. I'd explain more, but I'd rather hear what you guys thought of this, so please review. I may make a second part (the "Christmas dinner" mentioned), but only if you guys would like to read about it. Let me know in the comments. ;D

Many thanks, wonderful readers! I've really enjoyed my first six months here on fanfiction and am excited for what the next year shall bring. I hope you have happy hols full of joy, peace, and relaxation! :D

P.S. Ojii-san is Kameko's "new" name for Lestrade (read: I totally forgot to work that in earlier, so here you go). XD It means "grandpa" or "old man" in Japanese.


	7. The Reichenbach Fall

Hi everyone! Long time no see! I hope you haven't missed me too much! ;P

Anyway, yesterday I watched Reichenbach for the third time. Third time doesn't do the trick, it seems. In fact, it just makes everything WORSE. I was thinking about the fact that if Kameko and Sherlock were still, um, _rivals_ at that point, she'd be eleven years old, and by the time he returns, fourteen, which is really weird for me to imagine since I'm used to the snarky seven-year-old. Which of course led me to realize that I need to write a few Post-Reichenbach chapters with Kameko and the gang. I won't release them all at once (especially since I still haven't figured out how she meets Watson), but I thought I'd start out with this one since it's short and sweet (and not completely depressing).

Without further ado, please enjoy!

)oOo(

He was gone. Sherlock Holmes, her rival, her mentor, her _hero_... jumped off a building and _gone_.

How could he do this to her! What's more, how could he do this to Lestrade and John and Mrs Hudson! They had _all_ counted on him, and he _died_.

After the news, her parents, good-intentioned as they were, tried to console her. Lestrade, despite his whole world crumbling to pieces, still reached out to her. Mycroft, in his roundabout way, offered to pay for any counseling that might be needed. Only John gave her the space she wished for, though only because she was too painfully like _him_.

She was, of course, invited to the funeral. Mycroft may have been a fuddy-duddy, but at least he acknowledged the role she played in his younger brother's life. When they had first met, he had told her, "_Sherlock Holmes is not your friend. He does not have friends- only enemies and rivals. He does not care about you, nor will he ever._" It seemed as if he'd retracted that statement, or at least didn't bring it up.

The affair was small, limited to the few who knew the Truth about Sherlock. The casket was closed, the headstone positively _ostentatious_. And that's when she knew.

Alone in the cemetery, she shook her head and chuckled.

"Brat."

)oOo(

I have finally managed to make a true 221B ficlit! Hooray! :D Thanks for the encouragement, everyone. I hope to bring you more chapters of this and Valiant soon now that I've finished my first year of college. *phew!* Though summer classes will be here before I know it, so I'd better hurry my butt up, huh? ;P

Please review! Even if it's a short thing, I'd still appreciate it! Thank you so much!


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